


Such a Sweet Boy

by Valonia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Statutory Rape, Underage - Freeform, noncon/dubcon themes, sexual abuse themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valonia/pseuds/Valonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac has a thing for older guys, but Peter's pitch is all wrong. Isaac is a predator; he was never interested in being prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Sweet Boy

“No one else knows how special you really are. Derek chose you, but even he didn't know why.”

He knows that would snare the kid that everyone assumes he is, needy and aching for approval, begging for it. Begging for anything he can get. And if Peter wants to fuck him, fine, that's not a problem. But Peter thinks Isaac needs to be seduced, pulled in little by little, and Isaac doesn't play that game. He _invented_ that game. A grade boost here and there, a couple extra bucks to buy things his father didn't know about, big wide eyes and shy smile, an occasional stutter if he's feeling dramatic, and then gratefully, so eagerly, unzipping flies or dropping his own pants, and god, it's always so good when he has to work for it. 

“If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.”

Peter brings him a watch, just over the line into too expensive. He buys him clothes that are a shade too tight and talks about how good Isaac will look. Isaac tries them on, puts on a show, tugging down a shirt's hem as if he's self-conscious, glancing in the mirror at his own ass, biting his lip uncertainly. Peter's eyes never waver, locking eyes with him again and again until Isaac breaks the gaze. He'd peg that for a show of dominance if his sense of smell didn't tell him otherwise. Or maybe it is-- but the wolf has nothing to do with it.

“You're so pretty, such a good boy.”

It's little touches for the most part, hands lingering too long in places that hint at being inappropriate. A thumb brushing over Isaac's nipple, just once, a hand on his inner thigh to nudge him into a fighting stance, a whisper in the ear just a little too intimate. An emphasis on we instead of you and me. The shrouded insinuations that it's the two of them, together, against the world.

“My sweet boy. Let me take care of you.”

Peter crawls into bed with him at night, tells him that he was crying out from nightmares and whimpering, and Isaac lets himself be cuddled and soothed back to sleep, thinking, just make a move already, Jesus. He knows that Derek knows, but he never does anything to interfere. Isaac would roll over for Derek if he wanted, swallow him down, but there isn't even a hint of desire when he sees Isaac. Arousal tumbles off Peter in waves. 

“I could make you mine, Isaac. Would you like that?”

Isaac smiles sleepily, nuzzles his head into Peter's shoulder, lets his hair be petted until it'll be a nightmare to style it tomorrow. If he gives up the game too quickly, Peter will know something's not right, just like Isaac would have if the other men gave in too easily. They have to have the requisite reluctance, the hastily buried guilt at fucking their student/employee/son's friend/friend's son, have to be drooling for it so hard that they just about cry with relief when he shimmies into their laps and presses a careful kiss to their lips. The ones who go for it too quickly are the ones who turn out mean. Isaac is a predator; he was never interested in being prey.

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

Peter lightly strokes Isaac's scars and holds him tight, lets Isaac tell him how he got each one, and even Isaac isn't sure which of his tears are real. Peter gently unwinds Isaac's fists and kisses each fingertip. It's all an act, he knows, a show to pull him in. It still feels good to hear Peter whisper a hundred different ways they would have killed Isaac's father if either of them had gotten there first. 

Isaac coats himself in Scott's scent, or Derek's when he'll allow it, and makes a show of submitting to Derek when Peter's there to see. Scott watches Isaac warily from time to time, sniffs him surreptitiously, but never speaks his concern out loud. Isaac distracts him with comments about Allison most of the time, or makes reference to Derek in a way that will send him spinning off into another topic. Scott is pure, good in a way that makes Isaac ache sometimes. He loves fiercely and totally, loves his mother and Allison and Stiles, and a different Isaac might have fallen in love with him too. This Isaac goads him enough to get them wrestling so that he'll be covered with Scott's scent the next time he sees Peter. This Isaac wouldn't know what to do with unconditional love, anyway.

It takes a solid week of Isaac reeking of Scott, even going so far as to borrow his clothes, before Peter makes his move. He slips into Isaac's bed again, smooths his hands over Isaac's chest, slides down to grasp his hips. And even though this was what Isaac was pushing toward, forcibly speeding the timeline, when Peter's hand moves ever further, Isaac snaps.

He has Peter pinned before he even has a conscious thought. Peter may be a born wolf, but Isaac is taller, younger, stronger. Isaac twists one strong arm behind Peter's back, whispers viciously in his ear. “Is this what you wanted?” He grinds hard against Peter's ass, hears the rasping breaths against the bedsheets. “No, you wanted my pretty little ass, didn't you? My sweet mouth.” Isaac twists Peter's other arm to join the first. He holds both wrists with one hand and yanks at Peter's waistband with the other. “You want me so bad, you're going to take what I give you.” 

Peter still doesn't respond. His heart is racing, but Isaac can hear him try to deliberately slow his breaths, try to regain control. Isaac had surprise on his side the first time, but Peter won't make the same mistake again. Either this goes Isaac's way or he has no idea what the outcome will be. He centers his hand and pushes down, spreading the bones of Peter's wrists against his spine. 

“I don't belong to you.”

“No.” Peter breathes out. “You belong to Derek.”

“Yes,” Isaac agrees, and he can feel Peter's surprise. “He's my alpha. He made me, he taught me. He earned me.” He pulls at Peter's waistband again, exposing pale skin. Loose fitting pants and no underwear, and Isaac is torn between hysterical laughter and tears. He chooses neither, and begins to shimmy out of his own pants instead. “But he will never own me the way you want to. And he would never even try. You would be an omega on the run if not for Derek--” He cuts himself off. He's let Peter dictate the conversation for long enough.

Isaac's fingers have shifted, his nails slicing into the delicate skin of Peter's wrists. He's hard, and he doesn't dwell on the deeper meaning of it, only slides himself against the crease of Peter's ass. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks again. “Submit to me, and I'll give you this. And then you'll never touch me again unless you have my permission.”

“You know, I like you, Isaac,” Peter's tone sounds as if Isaac had proposed a game of chess. “You thought it was all a game, but I genuinely liked spending time with you.”

“Submit.” Isaac growls, his teeth lengthening. He snaps his hips hard against the body below him. He has about thirty seconds before he needs to come up with another plan, and he watches with relief as Peter tilts his head and exposes his throat. 

“I submit to you, Isaac Lahey,” he speaks formally, and Isaac quickly moves off of him, still wary of any sudden moves. Peter remains where he is, ass exposed in the dim light of the room. Isaac backs toward the doorway. “Did you forget your promise, Isaac?” Peter's voice is practically a hum. “You said you'd give me your cock.” He spreads his legs deliberately, tilting his hips into the mattress. “You said you'd give it to me,” and his voice should be mocking, but all Isaac hears is need. Isaac waits, unmoving. 

“Please.” It's the soft whisper that prompts Isaac into motion, and he stretches his body out over Peter's back. One time, he tells himself, and then it's over. He's not prepared for Peter stretching his face up for a kiss. Isaac bends to claim his mouth, but instead of being harsh and biting, the kiss is sweet, almost wistful. “Can I touch you?” Peter whispers again, and Isaac is lost. He can't lose control of this, he can't, but Peter seems sincere as he moves gracefully into Isaac's arms. 

Isaac lets Peter prepare himself, flushing at the way Peter's eyes never leave his face, flickering away enough to not be read as a challenge, but focused wholly on Isaac just the same. “Take me, claim me,” Peter encourages him, and he can't bring himself to break the quiet peace that's settled over the room. He should take him roughly; there's no emotion in this. It's a show of dominance, but Isaac still mouths at the base of Peter's neck as he slides into him. He gives him smooth, rhythmic strokes, which Peter matches with his own movements, and Isaac drifts into the pleasure of it, forgetting to be wary of the man beneath him. Peter only stretches out his neck once more, and Isaac bites down, hard, as he comes deep inside of Peter. There's blood on his teeth, but Peter writhes beneath him, and the scent of his come fills the air. 

Isaac doesn't know how much time passes before Peter stands, his movements halted and stiff. His eyes flicker to Isaac's, and he opens his mouth as if to speak before he walks out the door, silent. Isaac licks the blood from his teeth and burrows his head into the pillow. It was just the one time, he tells himself. Just once.


End file.
